The Greater Good
by AugHaBar
Summary: In 1945 Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald have their famous duel to end the war. but what if Gellert got away? what if after suffering defeat he went into hiding? what would change when Voldemort rises to power and makes an enemy of the previous Dark Lord? How would a child of destiny's life be changed? rewritten history, Grey!Harry eventually Powerful!Harry rated for safety
1. Chapter 1

Austria 1945

Gellert never believed himself evil. Evil was such a simple word. Used to paint the world in broad strokes; it never ceased to amaze him that people couldn't see past the whites and blacks of the world to the gray beneath. Nothing was ever so simple as "light" or "dark" in this world. He knew of course that he had done plenty of "evil" things, but what he did he did for the greater good. For a sense of more than himself. He did what others would not, could not, bring themselves to do, and he did it to save the world he loved so much. Magic was a wondrous thing. Sickness could be unmade, death could be delayed, and miracles could be made little more than a wave of a stick. How he wished it was a gift that all could have, but that just wasn't the way of life was it. There would be always be those that had, and those that had not. Gellert knew he had done wrongs in his life. So many things had not gone as he had hoped or planned, but that did not make him an evil man. The world was unjust and he had decided long ago to do what it took to right the world. Evil men destroyed. What Gellert hoped to achieve, was to create. He WOULD create a world where all of wizard-kind could step out of its own shadow and be free. Either with or without the non-magic's of the world.

Gellert Grindelwald sat in his study atop the castle fortress of Nurmengard. A castle he had taken by force, and had enchanted every inch of its walls and wards himself over the last twenty or so years. He knew he wouldn't be able to stay here long. Not with the entirety of the International Confederation of Wizards closing in on his location. Gellert knew his wards would hold for a while, but he was not so arrogant as to believe they could not be breached. No, Gellert had not survived this long by underestimating opponents and making stupid decisions. It didn't take long to have his study packed into his trunk. He took only those which he dared not risk falling into any others hands. Some books, his potion stores, his pensive, and his chest of artifacts were all lifted and placed into his trunk. He knew he would not be returning here for the foreseeable future.

Gathering himself to his full height, he looked around once more to ensure he had not left anything behind. He drew his wand. It felt strange in his hand again. For so long he had used another wand. A wand believed to be unbeatable, and a wand he had left behind in defeat knowing it would no longer acknowledge him as its master. He looked down at the wand he hadn't used since his expulsion from Durmstrung for his necromancy experiment. Twelve inches of Hawthorne, wound around the heart of a sphinx. A wand he found himself having sorely missed now that he no longer had the accursed Death Stick in hand. In appearance it looked as if he had merely plucked a stick from the branch of a winding twisting tree, but any who had known him knew that this wand was something to behold. A one of a kind the likes of which Gregorovich's father had never attempted to recreate.

With a wave of his wand he finished his preparations prepared to depart, and then he saw it. His reflection looking back at him. His hetero-chromatic eyes looking back at him. It was often said he had gotten his white ringed eye through some forbidden ritual or dark magic. Truth was he was born that way. Marked by magic from his birth. Destined for greatness, to make a difference in this world. His eye was not what halted his departure however. It was his hand. Or rather, his distinct lack of a right hand. Gone from the middle of his forearm down. A loss he had been forced to endure in order to survive his loss to Albus, but one that would not hold him back. Yet a part of him knew things would not be the same for him. He wouldn't be the warrior he had once been. Magic would never flow as freely through his left as it had his wand hand. He would overcome. He had to; the world needed him to be stronger, to achieve the perfect world for wizards. With that final thought Gellert thought about his safe house in France, and spun on the spot compressing himself down into nothing and apperating away.

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England 1991

In a rather small and unassuming house located in 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, a family was just sitting down for dinner. This family was just as normal as any other family you might come across on the street; a fact they very much took pride in. The mother was a tall woman with a rather long face and a longer neck, and shoulder length black hair curled up into a bun atop her head. Across from her was possibly the largest man in the county. The only thing more impressive than his sizable girth was his rather large mustache. It seemed very much to the average passerby that the mustache must have been recruiting hair from his rapidly balding head, populated by very thin and short salt and pepper hair. In between the two sat a boy at the head of the table. A rather large boy who seemed as if he wanted to surpass his father's girth one day. A feat he seemed like he would very much accomplish, judging by the second plate of eggs bacon and pancakes beside the first and the 4 glasses of orange juice he had drunk already. Yes together they were quite the happy little family, Petunia, Vernon, And Dudley Dursley all sat around the table enjoying their own company and food, all while trying to forget about **IT.**

It was perhaps too ominous a noun for a family to use to describe a ten, almost eleven year old boy. This boy sat in the cupboard below the stairs on a bed that was really not made for a boy to be sleeping on, but rather a large dog. Beside his bed was a small chest he had found while cleaning and decided that he could find a use for, and inside that chest were the boy's only possessions, possessions that meant more to him then nearly anything else he owned, except maybe his glasses. Some might be shocked if they were told to look into a chest of ten year old greatest treasures, and find themselves looking at a pile of books. The boy loved his books as they were the only thing he was allowed that that absolute **whale** of a cousin of his wouldn't be interested in. Vernon didn't care because if the boy was reading he couldn't spread any of his freakishness around the house. He secretly suspected that his aunt was the one buying him some of the more interesting books in his collection. He had some books about fantasy and children's stories, as well as books about meditation, books on exercise, math and puzzles, philosophy, religion, etiquette, history and even a book about strange places around the world. He had gotten each book on his birthdays going back as far as he could remember. He had suspected his aunt was getting them for him, yet she always denied it. He had learned not to bring it up anymore as Uncle Vernon would club him in the head for asking questions and had threatened to take them if he ever asked again. He also helped himself to any of the books that Dudley received since he knew they would be wasted on him.

It was normal afternoon in Surrey, and much like any other the boy sat under the stairs reading while his fami- **No**. he told himself. Not _his_ family, they made sure he was aware of that fact. His family was dead, and they were just sheltering him until he was old enough to work and get out of their home. Banging on the door to his cupboard pulled him from his thoughts, and before he had much of a chance to react large meaty hands were pulling him to his feet.

"Get up boy, table needs cleaning and fetch the mail" came the warbling voice of his manatee-esq uncle. The boy said nothing as he left the confines of his hideaway and began gathering the dishes and cleaning the table.

Out in the light of the dining room it was easier to see the boy wearing cloths much too big for any ten year old, a shirt that the neck of nearly fell past his shoulder, a pair of trousers held up with a belt that encircled him twice and was still loosely closed on the first hole, pants legs that seemed to have had nearly 6 inches of rolled up hem along the bottom, to a pair of trainers that he could see one of his sock covered toes through. It didn't help at all that he was much thinner and slightly shorter than the other boys his age. Atop all of that, sat a mop of extremely unruly black hair and just below them a pair of very bright green eyes. Eyes that seemed sharp, to pierce your very being, to see thorough you. Or so that's what his school teachers said. He rather thought he had normal looking eyes.

As he finished cleaning the table and dishes, having helped himself to a few pieces of bacon without being seem, he headed over to collect the mail. He had just picked up the pile when he saw the most curious thing. A letter. Addressed to him. How peculiar? He didn't even know anyone who would care to write to him? He didn't have longer to ponder his letter before it was snatched from him.

"Dad! Dad! Look what the freak has got!" Screamed his rather porcine looking cousin

"What in the heavens are you screaming about my little Duddykins?" His aunt called from the kitchen, her eyes finding a rather distraught looking Vernon looking down at en envelope. As Vernon's eyes looked around the room and found his nephew he gave him a look of rage and disgust. "No! Absolutely none of this freakishness in this house, I'll not stand for it!"

Needless to say the boy was confused

"Uncle I'm not sure what you mean, but can I have my letter please?" this proved to be a rather foolish request as with speed that was honestly rather surprising, his uncle had moved across the room and thrown his letter into the fire! If he was being honest with himself he wasn't very surprised something like this had happened, they always found some way to ruin his day one way or another.

He was again pulled from his thoughts by his aunt's shrill voice being directed at him. "Get out! Get out now". And so he went out to the garden in the front and decided to keep himself busy. What a strange reaction to have to a letter? There were a few things he just didn't get about the whole exchange. Who wrote him a letter? Why? Why were his guardians seemingly offended by the letter without even seeing its contents? And what in the world was a Hogwarts? He had seen the logo clearly enough, the badger, lion, eagle, and snake, but what did all that mean?

As he sat there behind his aunts rose bush, he heard a sound almost like a car honking. He looked up and found himself looking at a rather large black bird. For a moment he simply stared at the majestic looking bird, a bird he assumed was either a raven or a crow? A bird that was starting to creep him out with its intent gaze. Maybe he'd be better off sneaking back in and hiding under back in his cupboard with his books before the bloody thing attacked him.

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It was several days later that the boy was roused from his reading, a strange story he had received the year before about some brothers and their journey across a bridge, when he heard a knock on the door and his uncle yell for him to answer it. Putting the book down he exited his self-titled "Hobbit Hole" and went to open the door.

On the other side he found himself looking up at a rather pale man, with greased down hair and a rather large nose. What struck him the most about the man though were his beady black eyes that seemed almost dead, lacking any emotion or warmth, and his strange attire? Was this man wearing a dress? As he made eye contact again he couldn't help but think the man looked like the raven he saw yesterday, or was it a crow? No matter and now why was the man scowling at him?

"If your quite done comparing me to a woodland bird be kind enough to invite me in" said the sallow faced man in a bored drawl.

'OK_ that's weird; I don't think I said anything out loud?'_

"Yes sir, please come in" he spoke quietly but clearly. As he turned and allowed the man to entire he couldn't help but think what a strange week he'd been having. He wondered what this rather dour man could want with his uncle, and still, why was he wearing a dress?

"YOU!" came the shrill cry from the resident horse woman. She did seem to be yelling an awful lot lately, with any luck maybe shed lose her voice for a while.

"Yes me, Hello Petunia," drawled the bird man behind him. Well, that answered a question or two at least. So he was here because he knows one of them, and it wasn't his uncle since the man was pointedly ignoring both Vernon and Dudley.

"Get out! He's not going! The world doesn't need any more freaks like you and Lily!" screamed his aunt.

"Unfortunately you don't get to make any decisions regarding the boy's future. He will be going to Hogwarts. Like his mother, like me, unlike you." Strangely the man seemed to be on his side, but he sure didn't sound happy about it.

"What's the big deal with this zoo anyway?" the boy said deciding now was as good a time as any to interject.

"What?" said the crow man?

"What?" yelled his uncle sounding angry?

"What?" what the boy said in clear confusion, eyes flicking between each of them?

"What?" said his aunt look at him like he was stupid?

OK, it seemed like everyone was confused at the moment

"What on earth are you blithering on about?" Snarled the man towards him

"Uh, I saw the animals on the letter and guessed it was a zoo?" spoke the boy, suddenly feeling like he'd said something stupid.

"Did you, perhaps for a moment, consider TURNING OVER the letter." said the man cloaked in black. He seemed to have a talent for making everything sound like an insult.

'_Rather chipper fellow this one'_

"You haven't a clue" said the man

Wait. He did it again. He was sure of it

"Yes, boy well done figuring it out." the crow man drawled

So he could hear his thought somehow, well that was terrifying.

"Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind." he wasn't sure why but the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. The beak nosed man regarded him strangely for a second before commenting.

"Ralph Waldo Emerson, very interesting" the man seemed to almost mumble to himself. Looking like he was looking at a ghost. Unknown to them he was thinking back to a ghost of his own past. One he had tried not to think about for the last eleven years.

"So who are you any way" Quotes aside, the boy needed answers.

Before the man had a chance to answer any questions, his uncle was on his feet and clambering towards them. "Now Listen here!" whatever else he might have been about to say was silenced as the man pulled what looked like a short wooden stick and waved it twice, and he watched in amazement as his uncle and cousin fell to the floor, seemingly sleeping! It was all he could do to stare at the man while Petunia screamed and ran to her little Duddykins. Another wave of his stick and suddenly she was quite as well. Not unconscious, but all sound seem to stop.

"My name is Severus Snape, which you will only ever refer to me as _Professor_ Snape, and I am the potions professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A school which I regret to inform you you will be attending this year, as was your parents will."

"Wait, my parents had a will" he couldn't help but to ask, he had so many questions.

"I tell you you're going to a school for wizards, and you ask me about your parents will..." the man paused here to seemingly rub his eyes and curse an old goat apparently?

"Yes your parents, James and Lily Potter left a will stating you were to live here with the muggles, and then attend Hogwarts"

"Was that their names?" he asked hopefully.

"You didn't know" Professor Snape seemed rather angry at this question. But why would he care?

"No" the boy said quietly. At this point Snape seemed to have nothing to say just glared over towards Petunia, who seemed to have had a panic attack and passed out in her silence.

"What's a muggle?" he heard the scrawny child beside him ask

"Non magic person"

"That implies that there is magic."

"Stupid child did you not just see your rather corpulent uncle and cousin knocked unconscious across the room?"

"Fair point and I can learn that?" he wondered aloud.

Snape seemed ready to rip his own hair out at this point, if he could grip the greasy mess anyway. He reached into a seemingly hidden pocket, and pulled out an envelope much like the one he'd seen his caretaker's burn. "Read the blood letter and lets us be gone from here" The man seemed to resign himself to some great defeat while handing him the letter and walking outside. On the letter he saw the sigil he had seen before, and below it his name was printed in neat, large, scrawling script

To:

Harry Potter

From:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

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A.N.

Well that's the first chapter. Not a lot going yet but I promise it'll start to ramp up quickly, a lot more of the world and back history will be explained soon.

Please give any feedback you think might be helpful. Thanks for reading.

A.N. 2

Heavily edited and hopefully improved the quality as well as cleaned up some of the grammar. And added a prologue.


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: I DONT OWN NOTHIN, ITS ALL SOMEONE ELSES

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There were times in young Harry's life where he had to wonder, was he maybe cursed? Had he done something to anger whatever deity might be out there? He couldn't think of any other reason why he was suddenly being accosted by almost anyone that saw him. All of whom seemed to know his name and face far more intimately then he was comfortable with. Harry hated attention more than anything else. He would much rather be left alone and to his own devices, in all of his experiences in his short life others only seemed to cause him undue problems. He was hoping this would be a outlier event and not the norm of his stay in the wizarding world. He had asked Professor Snape about it, but all he had received was a brief warning to not let his fame inflate his ego any more than it might already be.

What a blighter.

Although he was thankful that the man seemed to at least know where he was going, and was helping him by keeping the people gawking at a distance. Apparently his escort was well known enough to scare away some of the onlookers. As they were walking out of the tavern they had just arrived at, The Leaky Cauldron he noticed the sign had said, he couldn't help but notice a wall of wanted posters along the far wall. The peculiar thing about them was that half of the posters were all for the same person, and for a larger amount of money then he could imagine ever seeing in one moment.

"Professor Snape who was Grindelwald?" Harry asked while looking at the large wall of posters. Staring back at him was an almost elderly looking man, but even the mans apparent age couldn't detract from his commanding stature even in a picture. He looked perhaps sixty or seventy years old? That's how old Mr. Maple up the street was, and the man in the picture looked to be of a similar age. The elderly man had a grim look on his face that never seemed to change even though the picture blinked. Perhaps that was what unsettled him looking at the picture, it was blinking at him. A single eye looked at him, the other obscured behind an eye-patch. A single white rimmed iris set in an almost impassive scowl just below a head of slicked back blonde hair.

Snape took a moment to debate if he should continue to answer the boy's _insufferable_ questions. Although a part of him was glad the boy was at least interested in the wizarding world. He still hated James Potter, and was sure he would hate his moronic son, but he wouldn't deny the child the ability to learn. Severus's began his lecture in an almost silky tone. "Gellert Grindelwald was a dark wizard that rose to power from the mid nineteen-twenty's up until nineteen-forty-five. During the years I believe you would call the world wars in the muggle world. He believed that wizard kind should rise up and subjugate the muggles. That wizards shouldn't hide from muggles, and he was willing to kill or destroy any number of muggle or wizard to achieve that goal. Hes been on the run for the last fifty years. Hurry now, were nearly at Gringotts. Touch nothing and be silent or I shall leave you to the goblins mercy."

Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know what kind of mercy goblins could show. He had of course never seen a goblin before, but he assumed that they wouldn't be too pleasant based on the muggle stories. Every story no matter how strange had a grain of truth in it somewhere, and the magical world around him was only reinforcing that belief. As they approached the large imposing building built out of what looked like marble he couldn't help but feel awed. The building was undoubtedly massive, and each pillar lining the outside seemed to be bent at an awkward angle. As they ascended the steps leading to the main door he noticed a plaque beside the door.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed  
Of what awaits the sin of greed  
For those who take, but do not earn,  
Must pay most dearly in their turn.  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there._

Yes Harry would most certainly be keeping his hands to himself. If the words weren't enough to deter him, the guards on either side of the door were more than enough. Goblins stood on either side of the door in full plate armor. In both hands each goblin held a large battle ax. Although the threatening sight was a little put off by the fact one was sharpening his ax with what appeared to be a bright pink handkerchief, and the other was asleep on his feet leaning on his ax As he followed Severus to the counter at the top of the hall he had to smother the urge to ask more questions. It was great they were at a bank, but he didn't have any money so what was he supposed to be doing?

He was pulled from his musings by Snape's drawl. "Vault Seven hundred and thirteen" he demanded of the goblin at the table. As if remembering he was there for the first time he glanced down at Harry and then back to the goblin. "And the potter trust vault, here is the key." Harry watched Snape hand over a piece of parchment held closed with string, and a large metal key. The goblin at the desk, Ragnar his name plate read, lifted a little metal bell and gave it a gentle ring after inspecting the key and handing it back, but keeping the parchment. They soon found themselves ushered through a narrow corridor and onto would could only be described as a rickety mining cart. Harry desperately wanted to protest but the unhappy glare from Snape kept him quiet.

Soon they were flying down the track marking sharp turns for seemingly no reason, and going deeper and deeper in the tunnel they were descending. Eventually the cart stopped abruptly and ushered off of the cart by the goblin. Before them was possibly the biggest door Harry had ever seen. Standing nearly thirty-five feet tall were a pair of giant metal doors engraved with some kind of symbols he wasn't familiar with, and the numbers seven, one, and three. After what looked like a lot of weird hand waving from the goblin escort the door swung open and Snape stalked away into the darkness of the chamber before them. Whatever he was getting, there sure was a lot of cloak and dagger going on in this trip. Whatever he was retrieving seemed to make Snape on edge, and that made Harry curious. Whatever it was must have been extremely important to either Snape or Hogwarts.

Soon Snape emerged from the vault, and almost as if he couldn't help himself, glared at Harry. How long was he going to keep doing that? Although from the man's sunny disposition and interactions with others Harry just assumed he hated everyone. Before long they stood in front of a much more reasonable sized door. After Snape handed over the key to the goblin, the doors were opened and Harry was ushered into the vault. It was more gold then he'd ever seen! Every inch of the floor was covered in piles of coins, most gold, some silver, and some bronze.

"Is this really all mine?" he couldn't help but sound awed. He was by no means ungrateful, he just wasn't used to actually having anything to call his own. He heard Snape behind him urge him on. "Yes boy, your mother set aside a sum of galleons for you to us for schooling and other needs while at Hogwarts. Now grab one of those bags from the cart and grab what you want so I can be done with you. I have other business in the alley." Harry wanted to ask what exactly a galleon was, but not wanting to bother with the man any more than necessary just assumed it was the money all around him .

Not needing any more incentive then that, he grabbed one of the black sacks from the cart. Of course the goblin reminded him he would be charged two galleons for the bag, but Harry didn't care about that right now. He soon found that the bag could carry even more then he imagined would fit in it! After what he was sure would be a ludicrous amount of money for any eleven year old to be carrying he was ready to leave.

As they exited the bank he found a list of school supplies and his gold key being shoved roughly into his hand. Snape barked at him "Right in front of us is Madame Malkins for your school robes and garments, across the street is the apothecary where you can get you potion supplies, three stores down on your right you will find Flourish and Blott's for your books. Do not terry, get your supplies and meet me back right there, at the Leaky Cauldron. I have other business to attend to."

Was this guy seriously just going to abandon him to find his own supplies!? At least he wouldn't have to deal with the man's unnecessary glares and attitude. With that he decided to take the small victory he could and turned and walked away without responding to the man. As he walked down the street he allowed himself to get lost in the bustle of the alley around him. Smiling parents, laughing children, people haggling at stalls, and unless he was really crazy, he was sure there was a giant walking down the street ahead of him.

Deciding to step into Madame Malkin's and get a new wardrobe he entered into the shop before him. The first thing he noticed was the overpowering aroma permeating the store. He was almost choked by the cloying scent of oranges and some kind of floral scent.

"Hogwarts, dear?" said a warm voice from behind a rack of cloths. Soon a stout but warm faced woman was ushering him back into a large room surrounded by racks of cloths as well as a few large mirrors and stools to stand on. In the room already was a boy a little taller then himself. He had the palest hair he had ever seen on a person before and a rather long and angled face. '

"Hello" said the boy, "Hogwarts too?".

"Yes" Harry replied quietly.

"Its my first year as well, these robes are all that's left for me to get then I'm all set. I think next I'm going to drag father off to look at Quidditch brooms. I don't see why first-years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'm sure he can convince them to let me keep it. My father is on the Board of Governors, very important man my father is."

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley, and he hated Dudley. Harry decided then that the best thing to do would be to not engage with the boy if he didn't have too.

"Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house Quidditch team, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?" the boy seemed to ramble on content to hear his own voice for now.

"No," said Harry, feeling out of depth not knowing what he was talking about. . "Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, bunch of daft misfits my father says, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" he didn't get to respond as the boy suddenly yelped and jumped off his stool. "Watch what you're doing you old hag! Bloody hell woman."

The woman smiled sweetly at him "Sorry dearie, hand slipped . You know with me being a daft misfit and all." Harry couldn't help it, he started laughing and nearly fell off of his stool. The boy started to rapidly redden and looked about ready to explode. Before he got the chance to the doors opened again and a tall regal looking man with the same pale white hair stepped in to the store. "Come Draco, we must be going." drawled the man.

The boy hopped down and Harry a disgusted look and quickly followed his father out of the store. Soon Harry was measured for his school robes and inquired about some more casual wear as well. After purchasing three pairs of black trousers, three pairs of dark green trousers, several button-up shirts of varying colors and two pairs of suspenders for the trousers and shirts. He got himself two pairs of dragon hide boots as well as a pair of plain black dress shoes Having never owned any real cloths of his own he was ecstatic to finally have some stuff he was happy to be seen in.

After paying for his purchases and having the kind lady at the register shrink them down for easy carrying he set out for his next destination, the trunk store next door. As he walked in to Tourings Trunks and Luggage Harry wondered just how a store survived selling only trunks? As he saw the rows upon the walls of trunks in different colors and sizes he found his curiosity peaked. He walked up to the man at the counter and waited to be noticed.

"Hello child, be needing a trunk? Hogwarts first year? Very well what color, what material would you prefer, and how many compartments?" rambled the man without waiting for an answer to any of his questions.

"What would you recommend?" asked Harry. "Well, we can enchant your trunk into basically any color. Most of our trunks can be made from any number of materials including dragon hide, maple, oak, elm, cherry, and some more exotic selections depending on what's available on the market. Compartments is rather simple and is exactly what it sounds like, and depending on enchantments the compartments can be rather large, certainly large enough for you to climb into or store any number of things. Finally we offer a large assortment of enchantments for your trunk, including a stasis compartment to keep potion ingredients fresh as well as food, a featherweight charm to keep your trunk light no matter what, a durability enchantment to resist dirt or damage from the outside environment, and of course expansion charms on any number of compartments. You following me so far? Good, so what'll it be?"

"Can I just get a black trunk made of whatever you think is best, but I want 3 compartments and all of those enchantments on it. And is it possible to get one of the compartments expanded to be about as large as a bed room?" Harry asked hopefully. With any luck he could just retreat into his trunk when back with his relatives, and have a little piece of the magic world with him with in the trunk. He was kind of shocked at the price tag, but figured he wouldn't be buying another of these anytime soon. After paying out the galleons and being told to come back in a few hours Harry decided next stop would be the book store.

Now this was his kind of store! Walking through the seemingly endless isles of books was one of the few times in recent memory that harry found himself actually happy. He began filling his trolley with all kinds of books from the wizarding world. Books on the history of the world as seen by wizards, books about Hogwarts, some wizard fiction books, books of spells, his per-requisite books, and disturbingly even a few books with his name on them seemingly about his adventures as a child. He didn't end up buying any of those.

As he was walking through the isles looking up at some of the books on the upper shelves, he was nearly taken off his feet by a sudden weight hitting him in the chest. Reacting without thinking Harry grabbed onto whatever hit him just as his back slammed into the shelf behind him and fell to the floor. After a brief moment of pain Harry opened his eyes to find not a thing in his arms, but rather a small girl. Harry immediately felt awkward. Not at all used to any kind of close contact, hell he wasn't even allowed to have friends thanks to Dudley and his gang. She must have felt his unease because she suddenly scooted herself away until they were looking at each other from opposite sides of the isle.

The first thing Harry noticed about her was her flaming red hair that cascaded around her face down past her shoulders; he'd never seen such vibrant red hair before. Next were the sharp green eyes that were, of course, glued to his forehead. To that damned scar everyone was so fascinated by. The most peculiar thing about the girl was that she was dressed in all muggle clothing. Something which he hadn't seen yet in his stroll through Diagon Alley. She wore just a pair of blue jeans, pink trainers, and a pink top with green flowers. The irony wasn't lost on him that this "strangely" dressed girl would have been the most normal by his own standards just yesterday. She was about his height, if not even smaller than him physically. Finally she spoke.

"You're Harry Potter!" she almost yelled at him, her voice full of awe.

"I've been told." he responded dryly watching her across the isle. She must have found this humorous since her face split into a grin that he was sure was enhanced by magic somehow.

"I'm Tracey Davis! I've heard so much about you! You're a hero! How did you do it? Are you like super powerful? Are you going to Hogwarts this year? Why are you so small? Are you goin-" she seemed to realize she was rambling and stopped abruptly and began to blush. Now he was sure there some kind of magic involved, her face was almost the same color as her hair.

"Um, yes ill be at Hogwarts this year." was his response to the barrage of questions. His voice seemed to snap her out of her reverie. "That's great! I will be too, ill be a first year. Are you excited for Hogwarts? I can't wait!" she was practically bouncing on the floor in excitement. Harry stood himself up and reached out a hand to help her up.

"So why were you running through the store like that?" he wondered aloud. She seemed to remember something very important judging from the startled "eep" she let out at having been reminded of something important. Faster then he imagined an eleven year old girl could move she suddenly pulled him into a hug and turned and ran away yelling over her shoulder back at him. "Sorry gotta run Daph and her dad are waiting for me outside. See you on the train!" and then she was gone. What a whirlwind that girl was. He sure hoped that not everyone his age would be so peculiar; he really didn't think he could handle having so much commotion around him all the time. And he felt weird being hugged by a girl he didn't even know. Physical contact was usually not a good thing for Harry.

After buying what was certainly more books than any other first year he went to his penultimate stop, to pick up a pet. He wasn't sure he really wanted one but the school list said it was recommended for him to have one to deliver mail and packages. As he walked in to Magical Menagerie he was assaulted by the fowl stench of too many animals in too small a place.

A gruff voice growled behind him. "What ye lookin fo?" Deciding he wanted to spend as little time here as possible he turned and answered the man, and held any questions he might have had for another time. "Something that flies, preferably something smart and fast." the man seemed to think for a moment then pointed to the back of his store. "Birds of prey are that way. If ye change your mind, snakes, kneazels, and toads are over here." After thanking the man he wandered into the back. Waiting for him in the small room were several of the aforementioned birds of prey. Several large brown owls, two large falcons, and the bird harry knew almost immediately that he would be leaving with.

Standing on a roost on the back wall was a large white raven. The bird stared back at him and cocked its large head at an angle as it regarded him with blood red eyes. Harry couldn't help but feel like he was being evaluated by the bird. Walking slowly towards the bird Harry lifted his hand towards the bird. After not having his fingers bitten Harry took that as a good sign and reached forward to stroke the birds plumage. As the bird seemed to lean into his touch harry glanced down at the tag in front of his new familiar. While more then he thought a bird might cost, he wouldn't complain. It would be worth having the beautiful bird with him. He noticed the bird already seemed to have a name judging by the name tag. Rana, was the ravens name. Harry would have to look into that latter, he was sure there was meaning in the name.

After paying and leaving the store Harry made his way down to his final stop before going back to the Cauldron for lunch, Olivander's wand shop. As he entered the shop something strange occurred within young Harry. He felt as if he could _feel_ the magic in this building. The feeling was like a warmth within him, starting in his center and spreading out towards his limbs and filling him with energy that seemed to thrum within his bones.

"How curious" he heard a voice breath out behind him. Harry spun on his heel to see the man behind him. An old man was standing before him, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop. "Yes, you feel it don't you? Magic guiding you? Your mother was much the same when she walked in to this very store. Well don't stop on my account. Close your eyes and feel the magic around you, let it guide you." Deciding to follow along with the old mans words Harry closed his eyes and waited. It took only a moment before he felt like something was pulling him towards his right hand side. He took a few steps and looked back to see the old mans eyes sharp and focused, but not on him. Instead he was looking at the shelf of wands on his wall. The same ones he was now being pulled towards.

Closing his eyes again and feeling, Harry felt the pull again towards the shelf. As he got close the pull was stronger, until he felt something brush against his hand. Opening his eyes he realized he was standing before the shelf with a box in hand. He hadn't even felt himself move. Even more unsettling were the eyes of the old man. He hadn't moved from his place by the door, and he was still string with those sharp eyes, but now his gaze was razor sharp and focused on the box in his hands. "How curious" the man muttered while approaching Harry.

"This is no ordinary wand child. Eleven inches long, made of holly, and possessed a phoenix feather for its core. It is no ordinary wand young man because it is connected through its core to another wand. The phoenix that gave its feathers for use in wands only gave two. You hold one in your hand. The other, I still remember quite well. Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard Harry, and that wand is the one that gave you that" Olivander intoned while pointing one of his long slender fingers at the scar that adorned his brow. "I dare say we can expect great things from you young man. It would seem that magic has marked you for greatness. It is said that great wizards are marked early in their life by magic itself. Destiny awaits you young man. But first, that'll be seven galleons." the old man seemed to be enjoying himself enough. Harry paid the man for his wand, and also purchased a small book on wand lore, and a wrist holster to carry his wand. Deciding it was about time to retrieve his trunk, pick up Rana, and head back to the Leaky.

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Knockturn wasn't nearly as bad as the untrained wizard believed it to be. Really not all that much "dark" magic to be found. No the true magic of Knockturn alley lied in the information trade that was hosted below the surface. If something of importance happened in wizarding Britain someone in Knockturn would be selling that info in the next hour. This was where the old man spent most of his time now.

Waiting.

He knew something was on the horizon, and soon he would be ready to act again. It had been a long wait, but he had not been idle. He had amassed a group of followers much as he had before. He was strong again. Perhaps not at his peak, but he was still more then enough for any but the most powerful to oppose. Yes, something was on the horizon, and he would be there. Ready to shape the aftermath into something he could use. Something that would benefit the wizarding world, and he would do so with blood and magic if need be. He would not fail again. The world couldn't afford him to. He had failed twice already. He had lost so much, but he could not stop now. Not when the world had need of him still. Destiny had placed its hand upon his shoulders and pushed. Magic had pulled him towards its very core. He could not fail them now.

If fulfilling his destiny meant having his fellow wizards turn their back on him then so be it. Glory had never mattered to him, only bettering this world that had been so cruel to him. If he had to be remembered as a "Dark Lord Grindelwald" then so be it. No child or wizard would ever suffer as he had. It had taken him nearly twelve years, and the majority of his fortune from The Great War, but he knew how to save the world. Destiny had reached its long fingers out and touched the world once again. Magic had touched another soul. Marked them for greatness. And if the rumblings he had worked so hard to uncover were to be believed, then Fate had spoken as well and there was a prophecy in effect.

Gellert would do as he always had. Ever since his fifth year at Durmstrung when his eyes had been opened to the world. He would work for the greater good. And if that meant he had to help a child then so be it. He had not taught any in a long time. He had been approached, but had always rebuffed any who sought him out. If they survived anyway. He didn't plan to get directly involved, that complicate things far too much. What he could do however, would be to guide the boy from a distance. Help where he could. He had far too much of his own work to attend to, but he would help the boy destiny had chosen. He only hoped that his contact at the school was prepared for the coming storm.

Gellert prepared himself for what he knew would be the final stretch of his long journey. He knew he would not survive the coming storm, but that didn't bother him. He lived only in service of wizard kind, and he would die for it if need be. It hurt to admit, but he had no one, nothing left but his dream. He had done miracles, he had caused atrocities, all in the service of wizard kind. He would complete his self-appointed task, and then he would rest.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own anything to do with Harry Potter

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Harry sat in his cabin on the train and tried to get the last hour or so out of his mind. It proved to be harder then he thought it would be, as he found himself unable to lose himself even in the book in his hands. It seemed Harry was to be reminded daily at this point of why he hated interacting with most people. Everything had been going fine really. A few days ago he'd finished his shopping around Diagon Alley, had got his wand, had returned for a rather delicious lunch in the Leaky Cauldron, and has even gotten the good news that he could stay there until leaving for the train since his uncle had barred him from the house until school ended. He had spent a glorious two days reading and exploring Diagon Alley. He'd even got the barkeeper Tom to tell him what little he knew about his parents and the man that had murdered them, Voldemort. Or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as the wizarding world called him. What a stupid name.

He'd learned that his father was an Auror, a wizard detective. While his mother had done some kind of unspecified work in the ministry of magic. Harry had hoped to learn more, but that's all that was common knowledge.

He had even accidentally found himself in Knockturn Alley, but had quickly left not liking the feel of the place or the eyes he was sure watched him like a hawk.

Then this morning he had set out for the train station with the directions given to him by Professor Snape. What an awful day it had been too.

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_Harry was approaching the station with a smile on his face. A rare thing for him he knew, but he was free, in a brand new world, and had all the freedom to finally live however he pleased. Who wouldn't be happy with that knowledge? There were people bustling all around, and he saw a few other children pushing carts much like his own._

_He idly wondered how so many students passed themselves off as "muggle" while hanging caged owls from their carts. Perhaps people didn't see the things they didn't want to see after all._

_He was steadily making his way towards the platform when he heard a great deal of noise behind him. Looking back he saw a family of red heads. He assumed this was some kind of genetic magic at work? How else would they all have the same shade of hair and identical freckles? And there were so many of them! Three boys, a girl, and the parents, and somehow the sight of them all made him sad. Here were a family all together and seemingly happy, but instead he was stuck with the Dursley's. Who actively hated him and made sure he was aware of it at every available chance._

_Deciding not to stew in thoughts of the Dursley's Harry turned and continued on to the platform._

_Looking back at the next moments later in his life, Harry would always wonder about two things. How had he felt the hand before it touched him, and had this been a fork in the road for destiny? How had his actions changed his future?_

_Harry spun on the spot and snapped at the person behind him "Don't touch me."_

_He found behind him the matriarch of the family he had just been observing. She seemed shocked by his sudden turning and voice as she just stared at him for a moment. Then she adopted a much sterner visage and seemed to scold him._

"_Nonsense child, I'm just trying to help you." the motherly woman said to him._

"_Thank you ma'am but I'm fine. I know the way." Harry tried to gently rebuff the woman._

_The woman sputtered over her own words, not able to get enough out at once. All while her family seemed to just watch from behind her. The two twin boys looking embarrassed, the younger boy and girl both looked mad that he would refuse their mothers help, while the man just looked on as if this wasn't the first time this had happened._

"_All alone? Child where are your parents? Surely you're not wandering along the platform alone at your age, and you're so small, good heavens child are they not feeding you?" she barked at him sternly, reminding him far too much of his aunt._

_Remembering his books about self-control and meditation Harry took a deep breathed and settled for narrowing his eyes at the woman. "My life is none of your business, and I'll thank you to please leave me be." this was apparently the wrong thing to say as the youngest boy suddenly surged forward and stood in front of his mother._

"_Oi! You'll not talk to me mum like that, you dodgy pillock!" the child yelled at him._

"_Ron!" the mother admonished the boy. Having had about enough of this family Harry tried to turn away to leave only to be grabbed by the scruff of his shirt and pulled back around to look at the boy. To Harry's shame he really was much too small, and the boy was decisively stronger than him physically._

_Glaring at the boy holding him Harry considered reaching for his wand, but not having actually practiced any magic, he knew it would be futile. He knew he had to do something. He was starting to feel the tendrils of panic seep into his mind. A panic he hadn't felt since the last time Dudley had been chasing him with his friends. A fury unlike anything he had ever felt before began to stir in his chest. No matter how much he wished he could stomp down that fury, it seemed to grow more and more through him. He felt the inferno consume his mind, consume his body, his very being, until all he could think about was the fire of rage at his relatives. A rage that burned his very being to its core. The rage for the bullies bothering him now. The fire burning within him at being weak, too weak to stop them._

_Then it all stopped._

_He felt a sudden chill pulling the heat from his bones._

_All was quiet._

_Then he heard the scream from the boy holding him._

_He looked up from where he had fallen to see the family looking at him in horror. The twins had pulled out there wands and had them trained on him. The girl seemed to be crying into her father's arms. Harry didn't know what was going on, and then he saw it. Ron's hand was smoking. An angry red swelling covered the hand except for three black lines of scorched flesh marking his skin. Lines Harry didn't need to see better to know were where he had gripped the hand that had held him. He wanted to apologize but knew now wouldn't be the time to do so. They wouldn't listen to anything he would say. So he did what he always did when Dudley was bullying him and something strange happened around him._

_He ran._

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Albus was having a very bad day. First he had over slept and nearly been late for the first staff meeting before the students were to board the train. Then he had been interrupted by a flue call from the board of governors during his breakfast, and his morning porridge had gone cold. Then he had gotten an urgent owl from one of the order members saying that someone in Albania had been poking around Tom's old stomping grounds. Next he had checked his underground contacts, and there was still no word on where Gellert was, or what he'd been up to since the cock up that had been made of the arrest attempt in France five years ago. Finally he had gotten an urgent owl from Molly Weasley of all people. Saying her son had been attacked by dark magic on the train platform. Dark magic cast by an unnamed first year.

Wandlessly.

The woman had clearly had something stronger then butterbeer this morning.

She didn't even have a proper description of the boy besides his curly black hair and green eyes, and he was short. That applied to probably twelve first years. Nevertheless, he would do his duty and investigate when the children arrived, but honestly. Dark magic used by a first year. If it was true he'd eat his own wizard's hat. It wasn't out of the question that some accidental magic had caused this, but from an eleven year old, well that was unheard of. If he was a betting man, he would bet the Weasley twins had done something to prank their brother and had lied to Molly.

He didn't get to ponder the mystery of the attack long, as Severus appeared from his fireplace. He wondered sometimes if it was worth allowing him access to his floo. "Hello Severus, lemon drop?" he offered up the bowl of round yellow candies. He knew Severus would say no, but that wasn't the point. He offered the candies to everyone who entered his office. Without fail everyone would turn them down, but that was what he expected. He of course knew of the rumors that circled Hogwarts about the candies being laced. They weren't. No they served an even more important purpose. Such an innocuous thing really, one no one thought too much about, but from the moment they entered his office and he offered them the candies, they were playing his game. He was in control of the conversation from that point on, and all thanks to a bowl of yellow candies. He did also enjoy them, and if people underestimated him because of his fondness for tart muggle candy then oh well.

After Severus shook his head negative to the candy Albus merely raised an eyebrow in question. On most this might not have had the same effect, but this was Severus Snape. Head of Slytherin and full time spy. Albus knew he would see every detail, and he would hear the unspoken question.

"Nothing except for Lucius's claims of something coming. All vague, nothing certain or actionable." drawled the spy.

"Any news of Gellert or his actions?" Albus was sure it would be the same negative response as always

Severus had the audacity to roll his eyes at the question "Nothing as always. He's being careful. How long will you continue to obsess over him? Leave him to the ICW and be done with it."

"It would seem you have forgotten my posting as Supreme Mugwump, and you should know more than most about the debts we owe the past. Am I wrong Severus?" He knew he wasn't.

Severus scowled at being reminded of his past, and turned on his heel and strode for the door.

"Good day Severus. Don't forget the welcome feast is tonight at eight."

Albus often wondered about what he could do about his resident potions master. The man was a terror to the children and an abysmal teacher, but he needed to keep the man close. If Tom ever did return, then he would need the spy. Although he disliked the idea, Severus was under oath to serve him and would not be able to refuse. He disliked to so blatantly using someone but he was sure that he would have need of him. Albus had never had a gift for divination like Gellert had, but even he could see that Tom was not gone for good. He could still see that mark upon Severus's arm, faded perhaps, but still intact.

He shuddered to think of what Tom had done to achieve this feat. Even in his misguided youth Albus had never tried to cheat Death. Gellert had experimented with necromancy sure, and they had hunted for those ever elusive Hallows together, but never with the aim to live forever.

To remove death would remove the purpose of life, and nothing good could come of that.

Perhaps it was time Albus did something he hadn't done in nearly sixty years. Glancing at the clock Albus decided he had enough time to make a quick visit and return before the children would be boarding the Express. Albus stood and strode over to the fireplace, and grabbed a handful of powder from the dish atop it. He would go back to that place. The place where his life had started its downward spiral. Where his father had been arrested, his mother and then sister died, where he had truly lost Gellert. With a deep shuddering breath he stepped into the fireplace and called out the name of his ancestral home.

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Harry had just managed to calm himself down when his cabin door was slammed open. Standing in the door way of the cabin were two girls. One was startlingly familiar, but the other was a complete stranger.

"Harry!" shouted a far too exuberant red head. The same redhead that had almost floored him in the book store.

"Err, hello?" Harry responded somehow making it sound almost like a question.

The redhead, whose name he remembered was either Kasey or Tracey, broke out into a huge grin and turned to the other girl. This new girl seemed to be studying him with a critical eye. She was taller than him, taller than Kasey as well. She had long straight hair that shimmered like gold, dark blue eyes that seemed to pierce through him, and a long lithe build.

"See Daph! I told you Harry Potter was in our year! And were already friends! Right Harry tell her!" Kasey, or was it Lacey he wondered, was nearly bouncing in place with that exclamation.

Seeing no other way out of this he answered her "Uh, yes I'm Harry Potter." If she noticed he didn't answer the other half of her question she didn't let it show. Now the taller girl spoke up, in a voice that was strangely even and almost cold. "Hello, I am Daphne Greengrass." She was, of bloody course, staring at his scar when she spoke. She then turned her attention to her green eyed friend. "Can we go now Tracey" she asked.

Ah so her name was Tracey. Good thing he hadn't actually called her Lacey then.

Tracey just grabbed her and pulled her into the cabin. "Daph lets just sit here. Maybe that prat won't find us here, and we can hang out with Harry." she seemed to have already decided this herself as she said all this while loading their trunks into the overhead carriers.

Soon they were all seated, and to Harry's surprise he found himself enjoying Tracey and Daphne's company. Tracey was just too bubbly and happy to not like, and was a pleasant change from his usually somber and melancholy moods. Daphne proved herself to be a girl of few words, but was very knowledgeable, and seemed nice enough if not a little cold to him. Still it was better than he was uses to so it didn't bother Harry.

"So what house do you think you'll be in Harry?" Tracey had asked him. "Not sure to be honest. I was reading about them earlier, I think I'd fit in best at Ravenclaw, but only because I like to read and enjoy learning. Not sure about the others. What about you guys?" he asked them back.

Tracey beamed at him "No idea! It'll be a complete surprise to me, although my dad was a Slytherin."

All Daphne said was "Slytherin".

She had such a way with words Harry joked to himself.

Apparently not to himself, if her glaring at him was anything to go by. Or Tracey's wolfish grin and hysterical laughing. Thankfully he was saved from his embarrassment at having spoken aloud and not in his own head, bye the cabin door once again being thrown open.

Standing there was the boy with the bone white hair from the robe store, and behind him were two of the largest boys he'd ever seen at his age. They would have dwarfed even Dudley. He glanced at each of them in turn then spoke "I heard Harry Potter was on this train, that true". He sounded almost excited. Harry was really starting to hate his own name at this point, but before he could speak up Tracey beat him to it. "No Harry Potter is a few cabins down; this is his twin brother Parry Hotter.". It took all of Harry's will power not to start laughing at that one. Malfoy just sneered down at her.

"Oh I suppose you think you're so funny don't you filthy Half-blood." then he turned his attention to Daphne "and you, enjoy her company now, because once I'm heir and your mine, there won't be any consorting with half-bloods or the like.". It was then he saw the first vestiges of emotion appear from Daphne, and she looked FURIOUS. She snapped back at him "I would rather die Malfoy" and then turned her head to look out the window, clearly dismissing him from her attention. Malfoy turned his attention back to Harry again. "Can't go around making friends with the wrong sort now can you Potter. I can help with that you know."

Harry decided he had had enough of this prat. Honestly was every other person in this world going to try to bully him in some way?

"I'm good thanks, you can leave now." Harry replied calmly. Malfoy began to turn red at being turned down. "You're making a big mistake Potter, do you have any idea who my father is!" Malfoy snapped at him. Harry was beginning to feel the fury creeping up from his chest again. "Get out Malfoy" Harry bit out through clenched teeth.

"Oh? Need some alone time with these two bints do you?" Malfoy sneered at him, and then he felt it.

Malfoy became very aware of the rising heat in the room. Heat seemed to be rolling off of the boy in the middle of the cabin. Malfoy and his goons were already sweating, and then Malfoy saw them.

Bright green eyes, colder than any eyes he had ever seen.

A cold fury burned in those eyes. A fury Malfoy could _feel_. He couldn't help himself; he took an unconscious step backward. Harry took step forward, fists clenched. Now they could all feel it. The pressure in the air. The heaviness weighing on their small bodies. The air was almost too heavy to breath. Harry's advance was stopped suddenly, when he felt a small hand grab his own. Harry looked down at the hand and followed it with his eyes to the girl who had grabbed him.

Harry decided then and there, that he **NEVER** wanted to be looked at like that again. He would rather everyone look at him with eyes full of hate, rather than ever see that look of fear on a friends face again.

Tracey looked absolutely horrified of the power rolling off of him. Looking over at Daphne, Harry saw her wide eyed, and pressing her thin frame against the cabin window. As far from him as she could get.

Suddenly it all stopped.

Everything was normal again.

Harry looked back up at Malfoy. "Leave" was all he said. Thankfully, Malfoy listened this time, and turned and ran. After locking the door, Harry went and sat down. As far away from the two girls as he could get and mumbled out an apology.

"Sorry, when I get mad stuff like that happens around me."

Tracey spoke up first "Its ok, Malfoy had it coming anyway. You ok Harry? That was a lot of magic..."

"I'm fine, sorry again" Harry said meekly. Glancing up he saw Tracey was back to smiling at him, and Daphne just regarding him quietly. Her look was different though, she didn't seem afraid anymore.

All three of their heads snapped towards the door again when they heard knocking. Outside there cabin was a bushy haired girl looking at them expectantly. The three of them all glanced at each other and seemed to come to a silent understanding. No more unwanted visitors these trains ride.

The bushy haired girl didn't seem to be getting the message as she knocked again and pointed down at the door lock. As if they didn't know how to work it. Harry just rolled his eyes and opened his book about Hogwarts and hiding behind it. After another round of frenzied banging on the door Tracey stood up and walked over towards the door. The bushy haired girl practically glowed with victory when Tracey unlocked the door.

"Have you seen-" was all she got out before Tracey yelled over her

"NO! Now sod off." and slammed the door shut and locked it with what Harry was sure was the most sickeningly sweet fake smile he had ever seen. Then he got another shock when the stoic girl across from him began to giggle while Tracey skipped back to her seat. Soon all three were laughing for a reason Harry couldn't really understand. It wasn't that funny, not really. But it was nice to laugh at something, anything, with kids his age. They only saw the bushy haired girl one more time before arriving at Hogwarts, when she walked by and pointed at their cabin and said something to a boy with a shiny golden badge who merely rolled his eyes and kept walking away. Harry couldn't help himself. He grinned at her in victory and sent her a wink, and just like he hoped she looked mad all over again.

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As they stood outside the main gates of Hogwarts waiting to be let in, Harry couldn't get over the breathtaking view the castle made. Just a week ago he had never left Surrey, and now he was standing just outside of a medieval castle powered by magic. And the lake! What an amazing sight it had made coming around the bend of the lake on the boats, even if the Weasley boy had almost ruined it all by falling overboard. Luckily he was saved by what Hagrid had assured them was a "very friendly Kraken". Harry decided he'd try to never meet the thing to determine the authenticity of that statement.

He was pulled out of his musings by that very Weasley child approaching him with a look of scorn on his face. "No need to wonder where you'll be going eh? All the dark wizards end up in Slytherin." the boy accused of Harry. Harry raised a single eyebrow at him but said nothing. That seemed to just anger the Weasley boy more.

"What!? Don't want everyone knowing you're a dark wizard? Casting dark curses on others! Look what you did to my hand! Your kind would never be welcome in Gryffindor." Weasley seethed while holding up his hand still an angry red, but mercifully without the black scorch marks.

"Emeric Evil-eye" was all Harry said in response. They were interrupted before any more could be said by Professor McGonagall calling for them to be quite and form a line. As she started explaining the houses he felt a hand on his back and heard Tracey lean in to whisper to him.

"Who the heck is Emeric Evil-eye?" she whispered.

He whispered back "A dark lord who came from Gryffindor house." That seemed to give Tracey pause as she didn't say anything else.

Soon they were ushered into the hall and stood between the tables.

Harry wondered about which house he might belong to best. Reading on the train, he wasn't sure which would be the best fir for him, or if any of it really even mattered. Gryffindor celebrated bravery and courage. Hufflepuff extolled the virtues of hard work and loyalty. Ravenclaw lauded knowledge and its pursuit. Slytherin revered cunning and ambition above all. He thought he had all of these traits, but he wasn't sure that any of them defined who he was. He supposed it would be the hats problem to decide what to do with him.

He was pulled from his reverie by Tracey gently nudging him forward. Looking up he found the whole room was staring at him. Every person in every seat, all the teachers, Professor McGonagall looked murderous, and the old man in the blue robes covered in stars in the back looked on with those shiny eyes of his. Magic Harry was sure, because why else would someone's eyes _twinkle._ Kind of creepy honestly.

"Today please Mr. Potter" reprimanded Professor McGonagall holding out the hat for him to take on his way to the stool presented to him. Taking a seat on the stool and allowing the hat to be placed upon his head Harry wasn't sure what to expect. The voice came as a shock to him.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his head. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, a thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting. You've not had an easy go of it have you Mr. Potter? So where shall I put you? Your Parents were both in Gryffindor, which could be a fit for you. Perhaps somewhere where your brilliance could be appreciated, cultivated? Perhaps somewhere you could use that courage and anger to lead others? Unfortunately I think we can throw out Helga's house. You've not had much loyalty or camaraderie, and forcing you into a house with it might not work out as I hope it might. Hmm, perhaps you should go into the house of Salazar then? You could be great you know? So much like another before you. Wasted his potential that one did, but not you. No there's something about you Mr. Potter. You crave knowledge; crave the chance to prove yourself, to make a name of your own beyond the Boy-Who-Lived. To be remembered for whom you are, not what happened to you. Very well, if those are your goals, then this is only one option for you I'm afraid. Looks like your new home will be SLYTHERIN."

The hat had bellowed the last word, and despite the ringing in his ears from its volume, he couldn't help but smile. Harry looked around and noticed something strange. It was silent. Everyone was staring again. A lot of open mouths too. Well at least Tracey looked happy.

Not long after that she was seated beside him at the Slytherin table with Daphne seated beside her. It seemed they would be stuck together for a while longer after all.

The rest of the table didn't seem to appreciate his presence nearly as much. He supposed he was used to being glared at by this point, he could live with it.

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A.N.

Hey all please review. If it's good tell me what you liked, if it's bad tell me what went wrong. It all helps. More than anything else I want this story to be a good one. And of course if it helps me become a better writer then awesome.

Now to answer a few questions I've been Dam's

Gellert is not magically a good person now. I try to write each chapter from the limited perspective of the character it follows. So while you might have more knowledge then any one character, exposition is always tinted through the lens of the person viewing it. That's not to say Gellert Grindelwald is pure evil, I don't believe he is even in cannon, it's all just shades of gray

There is not a main pairing yet, I'm planting seeds for a few different ones but I'm not writing eleven year Old's in love. Character tags are for what will become this faces "Golden Trio"

Harry will NOT be an op one shot machine. He will be more powerful than in cannon, and eventually at the level of the greats around him, but I hope to make that a reasonable ascension.

Thanks again all. Also, if you've made it this far to the end of CH.3 let me know, do you want me to keep updating at the current chapter length of about 5-6K at once a week roughly, or make them longer updates but more sporadic. Obviously if something big is happening I'll make them however long is needed to fit the scenes


	4. Chapter 4

I don't own anything to do with Harry Potter

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The silence in the room was almost deafening. Albus sat at his desk in stunned silence. The only other occupant of the room was the phoenix sleeping on its perch in the far corner by the window. Fawkes seemed content to leave Albus to his silent thoughts tonight. He couldn't understand where things had gone wrong. Albus was sure everything was going as hoped, that the boy would be placed into Gryffindor where he would find friends in the Weaseley and Longbottom boys. Young Harry would need friends and support for the long road ahead of him, support he would most assuredly NOT find in the house of Salazar.

But what could he do now? It was well beyond his capabilities to have the boy removed because he "felt it wouldn't be best". That abominable hat. Albus's eyes found the flopped over thing on the shelf and wondered why it had ruined his plans so. Not to mention the nightmare Severus was sure to pose for him. He was sure he would need to do something about the man before years end to curb his irrational hatred. Although perhaps the boy being so far from his Gryffindor heritage would dissuade Severus from his normal temperament.

Looking down he allowed his eyes to rest upon the book on his desk. It wasn't an overly large or imposing tome, but one he had retrieved from his ancestral home earlier that day. Honestly it was rather anticlimactic for Albus. He so loved a good show, but this, he'd just walked in and opened the safe and took it. He supposed it was better this way. The book was a dark indigo, almost purple and covered in small star shaped sigils. The book in front of him was probably worth more than some of the smaller family's might be worth. To Albus, it meant more to him than anything else he owned or could own. It was the Dumbledore family grimoire. Of course he had read it years ago, but perhaps he had missed something. Albus had always hesitated to retrieve it from its resting place. Not because of what it was, but what it signified to him. He and Aberforth were the last of their name. He was sure neither of them would be having children to pass their legacy on to either, not that he particularly cared for his legacy to live on, but he knew that he was condemning his family name to fade into antiquity.

Grimoire were sacred things in the wizarding world. Jealously guarded and coveted by those that didn't have them. Magic cultivated by the families and passed down from generation to generation, each generation adding to the tome. Not just spells, but magical theory, techniques, potion recipes, alchemical knowledge, and even prophecy were all things to be found within grimoires. It was what, he believed, played such an instrumental part in making him the world renowned wizard that he was. More than that it was also the last thing he had of his father. When Percival Dumbledore was taken to Azkaban it had almost broken Albus. He had idolized his father. Not a particularly famous, powerful, or note-worthy wizard, but he was a great man who had taught him and Aberforth to see the finer nuances of magic that allowed him to ascend to the title of "The Great Albus Dumbledore".

Merlin how he hated that cursed name.

What was so great about him? Sure he had achieved much in his long years, but he lost so much. He had failed his brother. He had failed his sister. He had failed Gellert. He had failed James and Lily. He had failed Tom. Albus knew he had to change some of his plans. He would find a way to protect Harry. He couldn't fail again. Not with so much on the line. He would protect the child of destiny, and if need be, he would allow himself to regress to his old ways. It would seem that magical Britain was rapidly setting the stage for the future. If the stage was being set for a future conflict then Albus would do his part. He would take up the mantle of puppet master again, if only for the greater good. Albus did always love theatrics.

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Harry awoke the next morning the most well rested he'd ever felt, in the softest bed he'd ever laid in. it was amazing what a difference a real bed made. Harry noticed he was the first one awake, and that Theodore Nott and Blaise Zambini were still sound asleep. Thankfully Malfoy and his stooges were in the other first year dorm. Getting up and preparing for his morning shower Harry mulled over the events of the previous night. They had all been treated to a rather intense speech from their head of house. Told they would be ostracized from the rest of the school by virtue of being in the house of serpents, and that they must all stick together in the presence of the rest of the school. They could have their personal differences, and would be permitted to have their altercations in private, but were to be united in the school at all times.

That all seemed fine and dandy to Harry, he had no intention of causing any trouble or having any adventures at school. He just wanted to learn more magic and find a way to finally be his own person. Finishing his shower he dressed himself in a set of clean school robes and set off for the main hall. He was joined by Tracey as soon as he had entered the common room.

"Morning Harry!" Tracey chirped as she basically skipped over to him.

"Good morning Tracey, you seem happy today" Harry replied.

"Of course, it's our first day of classes today" she said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"True, where's Daphne?"

"She went off to the owlery; she'll meet us at breakfast. Come on lets go before the ponce shows up" she giggled behind a hand while she spoke. As they ascended from the dungeons to the main hall they made small tack about what they were looking forward to this year and at Hogwarts. Tracey was excited to be able to give potions a go, stating that she loved to cook and they couldn't be that different. Harry wasn't sure about that but didn't speak up to dissuade her. Instead commenting that he was excited for charms and to learn more spells for improving their everyday life. They were stopped outside the doors to the main hall by a lofty voice behind them.

"Ah Mr. Potter, Ms. Davis, good morning to you both." Harry turned and found himself having to look up to see the tall wizard behind him. He was tall, with a white beard longer perhaps then Harry was tall. The most striking things about the headmaster were his deep blue robes with stars on them. Then there was the way that his eyes seemed to sparkle in the light.

"Good morning Headmaster" Harry spoke cordially, but curious as to why they had been stopped.

"Might I have a word with you Mr. Potter?" the headmaster asked gently. Harry knew it was not a question. Nodding to Tracey he stepped aside with the headmaster, curious as to what he could have possibly done to be singled out already.

"Calm yourself Mr. Potter, I merely wish to express that no matter what any might say in regard to your sorting that my office is always open to you, and that I hope you will look past the altercation you had with the Weasley boy on the platform." Harry snapped his eyes up to meet the elder wizards. "Yes I know about that, and no you're not in trouble. I'll be speaking to Mr. Weasley as well." The old man must have been reading his face as he had answered the questions before he could even ask them. Then Harry thought of something else that bothered him.

"Sir, why would my sorting matter? And I don't assume your offer of an open door is given to every student sorted into Slytherin" Harry watched the man intently. Hoping he would reveal something in his answer. The headmaster revealed nothing; he would not to be cornered by an eleven year old after all.

"Of course I do my child, and your sorting matters as much as everyone else's does to them and their families; but of course, you have the distinct disadvantage of being famous among the wizarding world for slaying Voldemort and famous among your peers as being the Boy-who-lived." The Headmaster finished in that same smooth kind voice. Harry wasn't sure he liked or believed his answer. "I'm not sure why my sorting or my life would be of any matter to anyone else, but thank you for your… candor, Headmaster. However I have to assume the hat placed me where it did for a reason, and as for Voldemort I did nothing. Whatever stopped him that day was not my doing; I was barely a year old." Harry hoped he sounded sincere. He was far too tired of all this nonsense with being the-boy-who-lived. Harry just assumed it would be too much to ask to ever just be Harry.

"My child I wish only to help you. How about this, I'll share with you a secret for your first class. I was for a short while the transfiguration professor here, and do have a Mastery in the art as well. Now then, when you start with the matchstick and the needle, think smaller. We are after all Mr. Potter, just a collection of smaller parts. Have a good day Mr. Potter." And with those words the headmaster strode away with a kind smile on his face. Harry was conflicted, he hadn't wanted the man's help, but he wasn't nearly arrogant enough to turn down advice from Albus Dumbledore of all people. So without much time to ponder the advice, or why the headmaster seemed to want him to patch things with the Weasley boy, or why his sorting should matter to the headmaster, Harry went inside to find Tracey and enjoy his breakfast.

After a better meal then Harry could ever remember eating before and explaining his brief encounter with "The Great Albus Dumbledore", He, Tracey, and Daphne set off for their first class. He had hoped Daphne would begin to warm up to him, but was told by Tracey that this was her "warm" attitude. That kind of scared him honestly. Soon they were standing in front of the transfiguration class room waiting to be let in. at exactly nine the door swung open to reveal the stern faced witch from the sorting already waiting for them at the front of the room.

"Take your seats please children, hurry now" the woman said, not rudely but forcefully. They all got the impression she wouldn't tolerate any foolishness in her classroom.

After they were all seated and quite she began her speech. "Transfiguration is the art of turning one thing into another. Be it the simple process of turning a matchstick into a needle, something you shall all attempt today, or as complex as transforming the facial features, turning yourself into a shark, or even turning a part of yourself to stone, metal, or glass. What you must all know from this point on is that transfiguration will be some of the most dangerous magic you shall all encounter in your time here at Hogwarts. There is danger in turning yourself or another into an owl, and not being able to return. Or transfiguring a stick into a snake, and allowing that snake to escape only to attack another student. Transfiguration will also be among the most used of your everyday spells, as conjuration is among the higher levels of transfiguration, but I'm sure you'll all agree invaluable. The hardest part of transfiguration will not be memorizing incantations, or learning wand movements, but rather within your own mind. Magic is intent. You must know what you want to change, and how you want it to change otherwise all the foolish wand waving in the world won't make a difference. You'll find all magic is governed by this intent. If you wish it, magic can make it so." As she spoke the class hung on her every word. For most of them this was their first formal introduction into how magic worked. This would be the foundation that would be built upon for the rest of their magical educations. "There is still much we do not know about magic, but we have also learned so much. For centuries wizardkind has studied and learned all we could about magic in the world around us. Still every day we learn more. All that knowledge, all that history, all those accomplishments, all of it started with a room like this and some students like you. You are the futures of our society and I will expect all of you to do your very bests to learn in my class. Now well begin with the first lesson." After that she demonstrated the wand movement and incantation to turn the match stick they were each given into a needle.

Harry sat and looked down at the desk he was seated at thinking of the professor's words. Intent governed magic she had said. So was it as simple as wishing it would change? Harry doubted that very much. He had read ahead a little in the transfiguration book and had already read the section about this spell, but something still seemed to be missing from his understanding. Harry waved his wand and said the words and gave it his first attempt. The match stick wiggled a little but nothing changed. Then Harry remembered the words of the Headmaster "_think smaller_" he had said. But how much smaller? It was only a match stick after all. Was he meant to shrink the thing somehow? No professor McGonagall would have said something if that was the case. Smaller, what could he have meant by smaller? Looking around the room harry saw that no one had made any progress yet. Perhaps the best attempt yet had been made by one of the Ravenclaws who had turned half of the match stick a silver color.

Harry nearly jumped out of his seat at the explosion behind him, just two desks away. He looked back to see a smoking crater in Tracey's desk, and small pieces of wool flying away from her. As one hit him in the face he was suddenly struck by an idea. What if he didn't try to change the matchstick at all? What if he went smaller? What if instead of trying to change the entire matchstick from the outside in, he changed it from the inside out? Start with just parts of the matchstick, the elements themselves maybe? The wood first, then the iron and sulfur all into metal, then made it into a sharp point perhaps. Harry took a long few moments to visualize what he wanted to happen. Trying to visualize the change, cell by cell into the desired shape and element. Harry felt a building pressure within himself, as if his very being was being condensed, and then a sudden release of the pressure. Like a balloon popping. Looking down he was surprised to see a matchstick that was now nearly two thirds of the way transfigured into a needle.

"Well I never…. That might be perhaps the best first try I've ever seen Mr. Potter. I've seen perhaps only three students do as well. Five points to Slytherin! And another five perhaps if you can finish before class ends." Professor McGonagall exclaimed excitedly. It would only take Harry four more tried to get it right.

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Gellert had always hated theatrics. He knew that it served a purpose, but it always seemed so unnecessary. For someone who devoted himself so fully to the pursuit of truth and knowledge it grated his very being to be sitting in the audience of the theater. He knew that deception, shock and awe, and misdirection where all invaluable skill sets to have and he utilized them often enough, but he didn't enjoy it as a past time.

Gellert idly wondered if he should give up on the meeting and leave the rather pricey box seats he had been told would stand as his meeting place with his ever elusive contact. He was sure it would surprise almost no one to learn that there were several shadow groups and organizations always moving in the shadows for some reason or another. Always trying to push some agenda or another; He hated it all. At least he had had the gall to be open and honest about his plans from the beginning and worked in the light. He hated that he had to use these underground syndicates at all but he was only one person after all.

He felt him before he saw or heard him. Gellert no longer consciously used magic to feel his surroundings; it was just a part of who he was. It was only thanks to this that he didn't react to the tendrils of ice he felt grip his spine; A creeping chill that seemed to claw its way out from within himself. Gellert looked away from the play happening on stage and towards the man seating himself in the box beside him. Neither spoke at first. Both seemed content to sit in silence. The man looked to be perhaps in his early thirties, with short curling wisps of black hair atop his head and the beginnings of stubble on his square chin. What unsettled him were the man's eyes and the way he carried himself. Eyes of molten gold stared at him, unblinking and all seeing. It would not be the first time he would meet with this man, but he hoped it would be the last. He did not fear the thing across the table from him. No he had killed worse monsters and lived, but he knew it would be troublesome to continue to involve himself with the man.

Deciding to break the silence first Gellert spoke "Hello Grigori, it's been some time.". Grigori smiled wider than any man should be able to exposing rows of yellowing and rotting teeth, and Gellert was once again reminded that the man across from him was no longer fully human. "Hello old friend! I have missed you! Always so much fun when you are around. So much excitement to be had for old Greg." The man seemed to be trying to speak everything in a single breath, with a thick Siberian accent. "So what can I do for you my friend! Of course help has its price, but you knew this yes?" Gellert did not miss the edge to his voice.

"Of course old friend the piper shall have his due." Gellert knew he was making a very dangerous deal. Again. "Tell me old friend, what can humble Greg do for you?" Grigori fixed him with those molten gold eyes of his, sharp as a gawk. It was time for business at last.

"I need to know of what Albus Dumbledore is planning. I need to know of the coming storm." Gellert would not mince words here. He would have the information he needed to save the wizarding world. Grigori seemed to be considering his words very carefully. Minutes stretched on around the two but Gellert knew better than to interrupt the wizard before him if he wanted his answers.

"I can find out these things. I can show you these things. The cost is five" Grigori smiled his broken yellow teeth at him again.

"Five is too much, three will do" five would perhaps be too steep of a price even for such coveted information. "I'm sorry old friend; five is his demand for this thing you ask of us".

Gellert felt cold fingers whisper across his spine again. He knew he had no choice. "Very well, tell Rokita I accept the terms". Grigori smiled at him, but this time he seemed almost sad "We know". As he spoke he pulled from within the inner pockets of his coat a small bowl and a small knife. Placing the bowl on the table before him and motioning for him to take the knife Gellert knew what was expected of him. He grabbed the knife and for the third time in his life initiated a ritual with a Russian wizard and the demon he shared his body with. He cut the stump of his right arm and let the blood flow into the bowl. He made very sure that he didn't spill any, and to clean the knife before returning it to Grigori. The Russian wizard looked down at the bowl for a moment as if in thought, before bringing it to his lips and drinking deeply of the blood in the bowl. Gellert took the moment to heal the bleeding stump that was his right arm again.

Grigori set the bowl down and looked up at Gellert. Gone were the molten gold, and in their place blood red and black stared back at him. And then it spoke to him, gone was the accent, devoid of any emotion. "Hello again Warlock. You are growing desperate in your old age. Why not accept me or another of my kind? You could live forever you know? Gain the years back you've squandered on petty deals." He could hear the mocking in the demons words, but he needed the knowledge.

"My mind and body are my own Rokita, and I do not fear death. It will eventually claim us all." Gellert spoke calmly. "Very well warlock. Look and see. You ask of the storm coming. I will show you." The voice of the demon rumbled. It bounced within his skull, deafening the sound of the theater below them.

Lifting his eyes back up to the demons Gellert felt the world around him crumble. He saw the world begin to spin past him. He saw a house and a boy under a stair case. He saw a train and a surge of magic a child couldn't control. He saw a stone and a mirror and the reflection of a snake. He saw the a man with no faces standing in a book store. He saw the faceless man in a classroom. He saw a snake in a pipe slithering. He saw a child wielding a sword. He saw soulless wraiths prowling the ground. He saw a black dog following a bus. He saw a griffin chained to a post. He saw a child cast a patronous charm and summon a silver stag. He saw a rat. He saw a goblet and the raging inferno within it. He saw a graveyard surrounded by mist. And finally, he saw the shadow of death that loomed over the graveyard.

As fast as it started it was over and he was once again seated at the table in the upper box of a theater in modern magic Moscow. Staring back at him were the molten golden eyes of Grigori Rasputin. He felt the change within him. The withering drain of his own life force pulled from him. The weight on his shoulders grew heavier, and he knew he would not have the time he had hoped for to accomplish his mission. Grigori stood and bowed to him. "Good bye Gellert, I'm afraid this is the end of our friendship. We will not meet again. Rokita says he had hoped you would have considered his offer, and that you are wasting your talents. Auf Wiedersehen old friend." With that last goodbye Gellert knew he spoke the truth, and that he would never again speak to the man who controlled russia from its very shadows, and the demon who traded life for prophecy.

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